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THE STREET SINGER. 



CORRECT ED EDITION. 



THE 



Street Sinqer; 






■^- 



BY D. C. ADDISON. 




CHICAGO: 
Henry A. Sumner and CompanYc 

iS8o. 



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Copyright, i8So, 

HeNKY A.SuMNFR & COMIANV. 



TO 



DR. GEO. F. ROOT, 

Whose songs have gladdened thousands of homes, 

and made hearts happy everywhere, 

this little work 



IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



No cord, I well believe, is wound so tight 

Round chest, nor nails the plank so fastly hold, 

As Faith enwraps an honorable sprite 

In its secure inextricable fold; 

Nor holy Faith, it seems, except in white 

Was mantled over in the days of old ; 

So by the ancient limner ever painted 

As by one speck, one single blemish, tainted. 

Faith should be kept unbroken ever more, 
With one or with a thousand men united, 
As well if given in grot or forest hoar 
Remote from town and hamlet, as if plighted 
Amid a crowd of witnesses; before 
Tribunal, and in act and deed recited, 
Nor needs the solemn sanction of an oath: 
It is sufficient that we pledge our troth. 

Ariosto. 



PART FIRST. 



^^A ^^^ 




PART FIRST. 



EDNA. 



Oh, Earnest, 'tis a year to-night 
Since baby Agnes took her flight 
From earth, and we two stood alone 
With sorrow in the gathering gloom. 
And icy cold, and still, and white, 
Our darling lay, in the cruel blight 
Of death. All brightness from us fled. 
All hope within our hearts was dead. 
And soon a grave — a tiny mound. 
With sparkling grasses quaintly crowned 



lO 



THE STREET SINGER. 



With frost's frail gossamer of snow, 

'Round which the chill winds wake and blow, 

And sigh and moan. And all was o'er — 

Our Agnes was our own no more. 

And now, before my grief-blind eyes, 

Tlie self-same scenes of sorrow rise : — 

To-nifjht I see it all aiiain — 

The great, dumb agony of pain — 

Tlie moaning winter's wind I hear. 

My soul aghast with speechless fear : 

Again to tears, and prayers, and sighs. 

But mocking echo brings replies ; 

And now, before my aching sight. 

Low lies our Agnes, in the blight 

Of death. Oh, Earnest, what is death? 

When dark the skies, how sweet is faith ! 

But where is she — our little one 

We left in yonder church-yard lone ? 

She lives, we know, for it is said 



THE STREET SINGER. 



II 



By faith we'll meet — 

EARNEST. 

— We know she's dead ! 
And where we laid her she will sleep 
For ever, 'neath the little heap 
Of earth and grassy sod — her grave ; 
No superstitions shall enslave 
My mind with hopes and fancies vain- 
The products of a fevered brain ; 
Facts against fancies, so I say : 
We know where Agnes is, and aye 
Will be, until by slow decay 
She moulder back again to clay. 

EDNA. 



What say you. Earnest ? back to clay ? 
If man sprung from it once, then may 



12 THE STREET SINGER. 

Not our Creator call again 
That clay to life ? then is it vain 
To hope our little one shall rise, 
Sometime, immortal, in the skies ? 

EARNEST. 

I used a hackneyed phrase, may be — 
The shackles of old chains, you see, 
The links all broken, still will cling 
Around one, and with clankings ring 
Into the mind, against the will, 
Their fragmentary phrases still. 
I simply meant just what I said — 
Our little Agnes now is dead. 

EDNA. 

But, Earnest, I've seen the worm revive 
And joyfully again to life 



THE STREET SINGER. 1 3 

Its being all anew unfold, 

It sailed on burnished wings of gold — 

To such a worm as great a heaven 

As that we hope to man is given. 

I've watched, when autumn's chill wind blows, 

And seen the petals of the rose 

Fall from their stem upon the ground, 

Its dying sweetness wafted round ; 

But in the spring, all fresh and fair. 

Its living breath was in the air. 

I've watched a single tiny grain 

Bring forth the verdant plant again ;- 

Now the worm, the rose, the grain of corn, 

Are types of the resurrection morn. 

EARNEST. 

Weak reasoning ! Edna ; all in vain — 
Phantoms, at best, of the poet's brain ; 
Reasons that women please, may be, 



14 THE STREET SINGER. 

But false, and stale, and weak they be. 
We've watched the spring-tinic come and go, 
That worms to insects warm we know ; — 
We know how summer sun and rain 
Revive the buried seed again — 
We knoiv^ — weVe seen with our own eyes, — 
But man, once dead, again shall rise ! 
Absurd, I say ! what proof have we 
That such our altered state shall be — 
That graves shall open, dead men walk — 
About the resurrection talk ? 
It is not positive, you see, 
This reasoning from analogy. 
Such dreams may feeble minds beguile, 
But wisdom scouts, and science smiles 
At the strange antics reason makes, 
When, playing blind-man's buff, she takes 
Such mighty strides, and grasps at air. 
And this is faith ! and now compare 



THE STREET SINGER. 1 5 

What it may clutch thus aimlessly, 
With that attained by reason's eye. 

Fve longed that you the truth might find, 
Put, Edna, you've a childish mind — 
Hold to your old faith, Santa Claus ; 
In the old track move on, nor pause 
To scan the so-called Sacred Truth 
The Church has taught you in your youth. 
Those truths, Edna, if closely scanned. 
Prove cunning fables, nicely planned ; 
Fit to be written on the page 
Of a blind, superstitious age. 
When w^itches, ghosts and goblins dwelt, 
And men in adoration knelt 
Before a man, or God, that died — 
One Christ, that once was crucified. 
All that, we know, has passed away, 
For what was true, is false to-day ; 



i6 



THE STREET SLVGER. 



"Progress" is stamped on everything ! 

Nothing is fixed, but on the wing : 

A mountain that to-day we see, 

To-morrow may a valley be ; 

The lesson that to us seems wise 

The next may view with laughing eyes. 

So, Edna, this I wish to say : — 

The old religion's passed away ; 

For lo, we must have something new, 

As new in arts, religion too. 



EDNA. 

O, Earnest, your talk seems strange to me- 

Religion new ! how can that be '^ 

As well new sun and stars require. 

If of the old ones we might tire ! 

Religion comes from God, if true ; 

He knows if best to form it new. 

And oh, how sad and desolate — 



THE STREET SINGER. 17 

How truly dreadful man's estate 

Without religion — dreadful thought ! 

To what a goal has reason brought 

Frail mortals, and how cold 

And small the creed it does unfold. 

Like a poor wretch tossed by the storm — 

No light to cheer, no fire to warm — 

I'd feel without religion's power 

To cheer me in affliction's hour. 

I can not argue well, like you, 

And draw the line 'twixt false and true ; 

As St. Paul said, our faith is vain 

If Jesus be not risen again, 

But we have proof that he did rise — 

That he ascended to the skies. 

Full half we know we take on trust 

In others' knowledge, and we must, 

Or narrow down our little creed 



l8 THE STREET SINGER. 

To a poor, paltry speck indeed. 

Belief may be as good, as true, 

As if from sight the facts we knew ; 

And with religion it is so — 

We take on trust what others know. 

St. Paul was infidel as you, 

And he was forced to think it true — 

To think ? aye, rather forced to know. 

And every former doubt forego. 



Earnest, when you your views explained, 
You used a hackneyed phrase again ; 
You said '• Religion, fLiirly scanned, 
Proved cunning fables, nicely planned." 
St. Paul says such he followed not — - 
He was a man of mighty thought. 
And mighty power and earnest zeal ; 
That he was truthful we must feel, 
For candid reason says and why 



THE STREET SINGER. 19 

To prove a falsehood would he die ? 

It seems to me there's some mistake 

When lynx-e}'ed Reason, wide awake, 

Cuts queerer antics, as we see, 

Than Faith, though blindfold Faith may be ! 

Reason without religion grows insane — 

Rends all before her, needs a chain : 
Without religion's fostering care, 
Where our prophets, our poets where ! 
What devastation would be wrought — 
All swept away and brought to naught ! 

EARNEST. 

Edna, not so ! not so, I say, 
Are works of fiction swept away ? 
Are fables nothing, if not ti-ue? 
If we were happier were they true 
I'd gladly cheat myself and you ! 



20 



THE STREET SINGER. 



EDNA. 



I know I can not argue well, 
Nor half I think and feel can tell, 
And do the cause my heart most near 
More harm than good, sometimes I fear ; 
But safe to judge — may it not be — 
If fruit is good, then so the tree ? 

EARNEST. 

Well said I Crusades in days of yore — 
Such like were fruits religion bore ! 

EDNA. 

Not pure religion, Earnest, no ! 
By man it was corrupted ; though 
As well the worm that gnaws the tree 
The fruit it bears misfht called be. 



THE STREET SINGER. 21 

EARNEST. 

A truce, I pray ! you rightly said 

For argument you ne'er were made ; 

So if it please you we will stop 

And let this worn-out subject drop ! 

I'd be more infidel to-day, 

I'm sure, for anything you'd say. 

'Tis easy, when all life is sweet 

And flowers spring ujd around our feet. 

To wisely talk of Providence, 

And faith, that brings a recompense 

To sorrowing souls who, hedged about 

With ill, yet do not doubt. 

But oh, when Azrael draws near 

And smites the ones our hearts most dear — 

'Tis then we clasp our dead and weep — 

They wake not from their dreamless sleep. 

And tears of anguish fall like rain, 

And prayers and sobs are all in vain. 



23 



THE STREET SINGER. 



So 'twas when little Agnes died, 
And faded out our hearts' best pride ; 
And when we left her, still and cold, 
Beneath the grave -yard's grass and mould, 
The pain we carried with us thence 
Can never know a recompense. 



PART SECOND. 



PART SECOND. 



No matter why or whence she came, 
Let it suffice to give her name : — 
This is a Rondo, at the close 
The last bar joins the first and flows 
At length, in harmony of sound, 
In one complete and perfect round. 
Be patient ; when the measures meet 
The meaning shall be made complete. 

So we will say she came, one day. 
The friendless, lone one, Mabel Clay : 
And Edna looked on her amazed. 
How beautiful ! she thought, and gazed 
In admiration undisguised. 



26 



THE STREET SINGER. 



Till Mabel shrank, in turn surprised, 

The while her blue eyes' light was hid 

Beneath each velvet drooping- lid. 

And fair she was, of form and face — 

Tall and slender, of matchless grace ; 

No brighter gems than her sparkling eyes, 

Her cheeks as warm as sunset skies, 

And o'er her shoulders, sweeping down, 

A wealth of liair, half gold, half brown ; 

A smile played o'er her blushing cheek, 

And 'round her mouth, half sweet, half weak. 



Poor tremblinor little hummingf-bird ! — 
Thought Edna — ne'er by deed or word 
Shall you be harmed ; from winds that blow 
ril shelter thee. No darts of woe 
Shall reach thee, flow'rs shall round thee 

bloom. 
Untouched by frost and wintry gloom ; 



THE STREET SINGER. 27 

Here is thy cage, at last bright rays 
Shall shine, and crown with joy thy days ! 
Then Edna strove her guest to please — 
To warm her heart, place her at ease. 
And makes her feel, now she had come — 
(To use a common phrase) — at home. 

She took the poor, lone little waif 
Right to her heart, and deemed her safe. 
And Mabel seemed a witching wile. 
Or laughing sunbeam, by whose smile 
From winter sudden summer came, 
And flowers sprung up of ever}- name ; 
All round her light deft fingers played, 
Her feet in lawn and garden strayed , 
And never in the tide of spring 
Did matinsT birds more sv^^eetlv sing-. 
She was a lark by morning light, 
A warbling nightingale at night ; 



28 THE STREET SINGER. 

And Edna was content to bask 

In this new warmth, nor cared to ask 

Where had her fair young charge? been taught ? 

What to her hearth-stone had she brought 

Of real worth, or lasting good r 

Whence had she come ? what mental food 

Had nurtured her in early youth ? 

What did she know of moral truth ? 

Had Edna scanned fair Mabel's mind, 

Its hidden principles to find, 

Beneath the fertile mental ground 

No deepened root she might have found : — 

Only the germs of flowers there 

That waited for the gardener's care. 

The germs of roses ? It may l)e ; 

But time will solve the mvstery. 

When the soft petals shall unfold 

With tint of crimson or of o-old. 



THE STREET SLNGER. 29 

But, like the rose, so has, 'tis true, 

The deadly night-shade j^etals too ! 

^- * ^ * * % H, 

Time sped along, and, day by day, 

Another year had passed away, 

Another winter fled, and May 

Returned, as poets say, a queen 

All crowned with flowers and decked in orreen. 

o 

One morning Edna rose at dawn. 

And walking out upon the lawn. 

Upon her heart, vague, undefined, 

A shadow fell, and dark behind 

That shadowy cloud there seem to loom 

Some mighty woe, and awful gloom. 

The early sun was full and bright 

And filled the world with warmth and lio-ht ; 

The tiny clouds flecked o'er the sky, 

And passing quickh', floated by ; 



30 



THE STREET SINGER. 



The sounds came up iVoni o'er the hill 

Of singing birds and rippling rill ; 

And Net a pain she did not know 

To Edna spoke of coming woe. 

She walked through grasses bathed in dew, 

To where a wood its shadows threw. 

And pausing there a while to rest, 

She watched a robin build its nest. 

And as she tarried drcaniingly, 

Low sound of voices floated by, 

And soon across the sparkling grass 

She saw two forms draw near and pass, 

Till close to where perplexed she stood, 

They paused within the little wood. 



As Edna turned the way they came, 
She heard a low voice speak her name, 
And. turning, she saw standing there 
Earnest and Mable — false as fair ; 



THE STREET SINGER. 31 

He held her hand in lover's way, 
And looked the words he dare not say, 
And Edna saw the blush that woke 
On MabeFs face wdien Earnest spoke ; 
He drew her to his strong embrace. 
And as she lifted up her face 
He showered hot kisses on her cheek. 
The while she smiled, but did not speak. 



5S 



A deathly pallor shot acros; 
Poor Edna's brow ; she knew her loss, 
And saw, with bitter speechless pain, 
Her blighted faith, and fond hopes slain. 
She prest her hand upon her brow— 
"My husband ! Heaven help me now !" 
She stood there in the sun's warm flame, 
And shook with chills she could not name, 
While, deep within, the bitter smart 
Was gnawing at her very heart. 



32 THE STREET SINGER. 

At last she turned with smothered moan, 

To grope her homeward way alone. 

No light upon the hills was left, 

And slow, as one of sight bereft, 

She walked 'mid shadows dark as night 

Without one ray of hope's fair light. 

And none had seen her agony ; 

And none had heard the bitter cry 

Her heart sent up. How desolate — 

How bleak it seemed ! O Love ! O Fate ! 



The hours crept on, till flaming high 
And flushing o'er the burnished sky. 
The west was all aglow with red — 
The sorrow -lad en day was dead. 
The moon rose up in sea of blue, 
And spread o'er all the world anew 



THE STREET SINGER. 33 

Her pale gold gleams of ghostly light — 
The shadowy veil of dusky Night. 
And still within the quiet room 
Poor Edna sat in the chill and gloom ; 
Laid prostrate by the hand of Pain, 
She struggled long to rise again, 
Until with mighty will, at last. 
She rose, and like one dazed, she passed 
Out of the room in the dim light ; 
And there, before her, gleaming white 
A paper, neatly folded, lay. 
Where it had been, unseen, all day. 
A new foreboding seized her brain, 
She tried to calm it, but in vain ; 
She took the note with trembling hands, 
And thus she read : — 

"To foreign lands 
We start to-day, Mabel and I, 

And I but write to say good-bye ; 
3 



34 



THE STREET SINGER. 



For, Edna, it is well we part. 

Now there's no bond of mind or heart. 

Don't deem me cruel, hard, unkind, 

For in the end, be sure you'll find 

'Tis best. Together, yet apart. 

We long have lived, in mind and heart ; 

And 'tis a farce, a mockery. 

To dwell together as have we. 

In this progressive, noble age. 

The truth must war with falsehood wage ; 

I'm not unjust, a canting knave. 

Your share of all we have 1 leave, 

And more. I told you long ago 

All things must change, and it is so. 

The smarting wound you now may feel 

The soothing hand of Time will heal. 

For could we read the scaled book. 

Much that seems dark would brighter look, 

So let our dream that could not last 



THE STREET SINGER. 26 

Fade into the forgotten past." 
******* 

Another year. Her landmark down, 
Her heart's best idols overthrown, 
And drifting in life's desert sand 
Poor Edna reached out for the hand 
Of Him who was on Calvary slain ; 
And bringing all her grief and pain 
Before Him, gathered what remained 
Of joy's small fragments, and regained 
By slow degrees her cheerfulness, 
Living that others she might bless. 
And like the bird which sings in death 
The sweetest with its dying breath. 
So her life's song seemed purified. 
When earthly gods and hopes had died. 



PART THIRD. 



PART THIRD. 



Earnest and Mabel journeyed on 
Through many a fabled land and town :- 
To sunny France and Italy 
They bend their way, o'er land and sea ; 
They look aloft from Pisa's tower, 
And seek new joys each passing hour , 
Anon they climb the Alpine side — 
Adown its steeps together glide ; 
On classic ground they stand amain, 
And gaze on storied mount and plain ; 
Then on a battle-field they stand, 
And seem to see an army, grand 
In burnished armor, marching on ; 
Upon the plains of Marathon 



40 THE STREET SINGER. 

They see the Httle band, alas, 

Cut down within a mountain pass ! 

They change the scene. On castles rare 

And lofty tow'rs, beyond compare — 

Week after week, 'neath summer skies, 

On art's best works they feast their eyes ; 

Their ears are charmed with rapturous sound 

Of choicest music floating 'round ; 

They drink the liquid melody, 

Are lulled, or charmed to ecstasy ; — 

Insatiate still they sigh for more. 

And now to Egypt's ancient shore 

They wend their way ; entrancing hours 

They pass 'mid pyramids and towers — 

The relics of that ancient day 

Of grandeur long since passed away ; 

They watch the Nile's dark waters flow, 

Anon o'er Syria's plains they go ; 

On Jordan's banks they stand ; they see 



THE STREET SINGER. 



41 



The storied sea of Galilee, 
Whose angry waves submissive heard 
The calming tones of Jesus' word; 
They walk the streets of Bethlehem, 
And thence to fair Jerusalem ; 
They gaze upon Mount Calvary — 
The garden of Gethsemane. 



And here they stood while all around 
Was strangely still ; there rose no sound 
Till Mabel spoke : 

"On yonder hill 
I see that which my senses fill 
With awe unspeakable ; but no, 
I seem to see what long ago 
O'erspread with a mysterious gloom 
The scenes that now in beauty bloom. 
Beyond I see Antonia's tower 
Whence came the soldiers in that hour 



42 



THE STREET SINGER. 



Of deepest shame and agony ; 
And there upreared the cross I see, 
Round which the crowds with cruel eyes 
Gaze on the awful sacrifice 1 



'Tis strange that Fancy's pen will shade 
The picture when the sketch is made : 
How often do we seem to see 
Things that we've read of; it may be 
The mind creates things never seen, 
And views them as if truth they'd been, 
Just as the bhnd man will retain 
The scenes he ne'er may view again ; 
As when he hears the flowing rill 
^Tis there before his mind's eyes still. 
And mem'ry paints the pleasing sight 
Of ripples sparkling in the light ; 
And when he hears among the trees 
The singing birds, or gentle breeze 



THE STREET SINGER. 43 

Stirring the leaves, his mind will quick 

Give the trees form, the scene depict. 

So 'tis that now before me still 

I see the cross on 3^onder hill. 

Oh, Earnest, there's some magic spell 

Around my heart ; so let me tell 

The thoughts that haunt my boding brain ; 

I strive to hush them, but again 

There come from out the silence round 

Reviling cries, and then the sound 

Of one in bitter agony — 

*My God, why hast forsaken me V 

What means it. Earnest .? hearing, sight 
Do seem immortal ; when the light 
Paints nothing on the sightless eyes 
Those eyes still see the summer skies ; 
And when is dead the hearing ear. 
Sweet sounds it oft times seems to hear ; 



44 THE STREET SINGER. 

These things I ponder oft ; — to me 
They're such a wondrous mystery. 
'Tis Hke as if in morn's first blush 
An artist take his magic ])rush, 
And saunter forth to paint the dawn. 
And findinof thence his canvas <2fone 
He paints the vacant, ambient air, 
And lo ! the picture should be there." 

But Earnest by no sign or word 
Gave token that he knew or heard 
What jMabel said ; but when he turned 
A fresh-lit flame ^^•ithin him burned. 
For, as through liglit we lead the blind 
And they see not, so ^Mabel's mind 
He'd guided on and guessed not 
That she had ever any thought 
Not shared by him. Now with surprise 
He saw the scales fall from her eves. 



THE STREET SINGE P.. 45 

We speak of darkness being black. 
But those who never saw must lack 
Knowledge of colors, nor do care 
The precious joys of sight to share ; 
Is it not true that .we desire 
To reach what in our grasp's no higher 
Aim ? This thought in Earnest woke 
A new-found fear when Mabel spoke ; 
He long had felt within his breast 
Stirring- at times a strange unrest — 
iVs when the sun shines brightest, then 
A shadow is the plainest seen, 
So when joy smiled in sunniest mood, 
A shadow in his pathway stood. 

He noted that on jMabel's face 
And on her form of wondrous grace 
Admiring glances often fell ; 
At first it pleased him passing well, 



46 



THE STREET SINGER, 



As if some diamond or rich gem 

Upon his breast delighted them ; 

But when he saw that it was true 

That Mabel shared the pleasure, too, 

His pulses beat with quick alarm, 

As at some vague and hidden harm 

Portending. Yet, to feel at ease, 

He queried : Should she not be pleased ? 

'Tis woman's nature thus to be 

Delighted with idolatry. 



And so it chanced to be, one day- 
He stood beside fair Mabel Clay 
And thought he felt such rapturous bliss 
Holding her tiny hand in his ; 
"Nothing," he said, "shall part us, aye. 
Let's swear to each other, Mabel Clay ! 
All other bonds we will forego. 
For ah, I love you, love you so !" 



THE STREET SINGER. 47 

*' But, Earnest, all things change, you know, 

And love, of course — you told me so ; 

I know not yet how strong may prove 

Your love for me ; we know that love 

Is often but an empty name — 

A cloak for falsehood and its shame, 

Too often trampled in the dust 

Of cant, hypocricy and lust. 

And so 't may be, with growing years 

The dream that now your heart endears 

May fade from both our lives away : — 

With forms well-marked with time's decay 

Remembrance of this love of ours 

Will seem but scent of memoried flowers." 

And Earnest looked in Mabel's face 
Surprised ; in vain he strove to trace 
Some hidden thought. 'Neath drooping lid 
Again each sparkling eye is hid ; 



48 THE STREET SINGER. 

Unconscious of all things around, 

She stood with eyes cast on the ground. 

So fixed on Mabel Earnest's gaze, 

He noted not the sky ablaze 

With lurid fire — the lightning's glare, 

Nor heard tlie thunder rend the air; 

Nor saw the storm-clouds in the sky 

In threatening masses rushing by ; 

But when in torrents fell the rain 

They tried a shelter to regain, 

And small the space the\' had passed o'er 

When flashes sharper than before 

In zigzags came athwart the sky. 

And then arose a piercing cry 

From Mabel's lips. And silent there 

Poor Earnest lay, like a vanquished foe 

Struck down by one great giant blow. 

****** 

Time passed ; in darkness, day by day, 



THE STREET SINGER. 

'Twixt hope and fear poor Earnest la}', 
And moaning prayed through endless night 
For just one hour of blessed sight, 
Till came conviction crushing hope — 
He must henceforth in darkness grope. 
No more his sightless orbs shall see 
The sunny skies of Italy ; 
No more behold sweet Mabel's face — 
Her subtle form of matchless grace. 

His eyes now closed from outward sight 

He turned within for hidden light ; 

Reflection now asserts her sway, 

He sits and dreams from day to day 

Of vanished joys and scenes gone by — 

Of trying to read in MabeFs eye 

The secret thoughts that hidden lie ; 

And lingered still the words she spoke 

Which now new fears within him woke — 
4 



49 



50 THE STREET SINGER. 

"But Earnest all things change, you know. 
And love of course — y« )\\ taught me so '/' 
How long would her affection prove? 
How long would she a blhid man love ? 

But hours and da,ys and weeks pass by — 
On swiftly moving wings they fly, 
And Earnest learns with glad surprise 
That he can see — with Mabel's eyes. 
He loved to sit at eve and hear 
Her low sweet voice, so soft and clear, 
To list her footsteps'dainty tread. 
To feel her hands upon his head — 
Her kiss that thrilled his being through. 
Was all of earthly bhss he knew. 



"Mabel,'' he said, ' when on yoiu" brow 
Come lines of care, and frosts and snow 
Besprinkle o'er your locks of gold, 



THE STREET SINGER. 51 

When this fair form is bent and old, 

I'll see it not, but you will seem 

All young and fair, and I will dream 

Tliat time on you no change has wrought — 

Will that not be a happy thought ?" 



Then Mabel answered : " It is true 

That time this change must bring to you, 

And Tm not blind," then silent sat — 

He silent too ; and long they wait 

Each for the other one to sjDeak. 

She noted not the pallid cheek 

Of Earnest, or she heeded not, 

Nor cared she for the changes wrought 

By apprehension, in his mind. 

Lest love's frail link not long might bind 

Fair Mabel to a poor blind man, 

Unpledged by any sacred ban. 



52 



THE STREET SINGER. 



Thus lost in thought, he heard no sound 
Of stealthy footsteps moving round, 
Without, no sound of carriaH"e wheels — 
Deep is his anguish, for he feels 
That somctiinc he may be alone. 
And wake ti^ tind his loved one gone. 

"Mabel, for your sake," low he said — 
"Rather for mine — would I were dead!' 

No answer came ; was heard no sound ; 
An awful silence brooded round : — 

"Why are }ou silent, Mabel dear? 
O, Mabel, answer I are vou here ?" 



He gropes and grasps, and calls in vain; 
A horror seizes on his brain — 
Yes, it was true ! his bird had flown, 
And left the blind man all alone. 



THE STREET SINGER, 53 

What thoughts now fill his weary mind, 
Sitting deserted, helpless, blind ? 
What pictures now his visions fill — 
The sunny skies, the Alpine hill ? 
Italian fruits, the laden vine ? 
The Danube or the flowing Rhine ? 
Statues and paintings, ruins old — 
Does longing memory now unfold 
Such treasures to his panting soul ? 
Or does she calmer scenes unroll — 
Point to refreshing shades, and where 
Peace, like a river, flow^eth there — 
To that dear spot, his home's sweet vale ? 
And sees he there a sweet face, pale — 
With eyes of tenderest, purest blue, 
That look in his so frank and true ; 
Hears he a voice say as of yore : 
"True love is love forever more !" 
Do jingling sounds of some old chain 



54 



THE STREET SINGER, 



Ring their discordant notes again, 

And joined together, Hnk by Hnk, 

Draw back old scenes and make him think 

That after all 'tis fain, may be, 

That by the fruit to judge the tree ? 



41 



PART FOURTH. 



PART FOURTH. 



The close of a December day. 
The snow in ghastly whiteness lay 
O'er darkling- brae and sloping hill ; 
In shrieking accents, sharp and shrill. 
The winter winds went wailing by, 
In notes of dolorous harmony. 

And out upon the banks of snow 
Shines forth the ruddy firelight's glow 
From the hearth that warms the quiet life 
Of Edna, the deserted wife. 

Long years have gone since that sad day 
When passed her dearest hopes away ; 



6o 



THE STREET SEXGER. 



And still she loves in the firelight's gleams 
To picture the past in waking dreams. 
Thus peace creeps in her breast, aiid stays, 
As sunshine in a prison strays. 

And musing in the twilight dim 
She sings a well-remembered hymn 
Of faith in Him whose saving power 
Has been her hope in sorrow's hour ; 
So plaintive is her voice, and sweet, 
With liquid melody replete, 
The angry winds that wail along 
Seem softened by the tuneful song. 



SOXG. 

*'Oh, pity the sailor that saileth to-night 

Out on the stormy sea ; 
Without the guide of the bright moon's light, 

Full many a wreck there'll be ! 



THE STREET SINGER. 6 1 

From stranded hulks that the winds assail, 

Comes wafted o'er the wave 
The dismal sound of a lost soul's wail — 

'In pity come hither and save!' 

Ah, pray for the sailor that saileth to-night 

On life's tempestuous sea ; 
If his boat be not staunch and manned with might, 

Full many a wreck there'll be ! 
Then pray for the sailor that saileth to-night 

On life's tempestuous sea, 
That he may be guided by heavenly light 

To the haven where he would be!" 

But hark ! without, a piercing cry 
Comes on the cold wind shrieking by, 
And Edna, hast'ning to the door, 
Hears faint above the tempest's roar 
A piteous moan—" Help ! I am blind !" 
And heedless of the biting wind 



62 



THE STREET SINGER. 



She goes out in the storm, to grope 
With heart aglow 'twixt fear and hope. 
And guided by the helpless sound, 
Half hid in drifting snow, she found 
A man whose pallid, changeless face — 
The while he moved with stagg"ring pace- 
Would seem as if he waking slept ; 
As through his scanty garments swept 
The biting blast, he moaned again 
And shook in agonizing pain. 



And Edna led the haggard form 
Into her home, cheery and warm ; 
Then first she turned in the firelioht dim 
To scan the pallid face of him 
She'd rescued : — 

Earnest ! it was he ; 
And with a woman's s\ inpathv 
vShe greeted him ; nor asked she why 



THE STREET SINGER. 63 

He thus returned. "How oft shall I 
Till seven times ?" she questioned not, 
But all her grievous wrongs forgot. 

And slowly joy crept in once more, 

And filled their hearts as once of yore. 

So days passed by, and months and years, 

Taking and bringing hopes and fears. 

* * %^ * * * * 

Again the summer came and went, 

And Autumn into winter blent ; 

The night closed in ; the day was late ; 

In dreamy mood blind Earnest sate 

With Edna at the glowing fire, 

And as the winds without blew higher 

The flames upon the hearth grew bright : 

"Pity the wretch that's out to-night," 

Said Edna, " while we're snug and warm 

Some one may perish in the storm ; 



64 



THE STREET SINGER. 



How fierce and wild the night winds moan ; 
How Hke the agonizing groan 
Of some poor outcast that may roam, 
Without a shelter or a home." 



So like the words she spoke of yore 

That Earnest roused himself once more, 

And listed to the cliill wind's wail ; 

When lo ! a sound his ears assail 

That smites his soul with pain'd surprise ; 

And lifting up his sightless eyes 

He hoarsely whispered : "List ! nor speak- 

I hear amid the wild storm's shriek 

A human voice in concert groan, 

Some wanderer in the storm alone ! 

A blind man's ears are quick, again — 

I hear a bitter cry of pain." 

Soon Edna saw a human form 
Struggling against the battling storm ; 



THE STREET SINGER. 65 

And then a woman, drabbled, torn, 
With Hght of youth and beauty gone, 
Sat shivering by the fire's warm glow, 
A haggard child of want and woe. 



PART FIFTH. 



PART FIFTH. 



In telling a sad tale, rhymes sound 
Like too gay music at a funeral ; 
Words may move on in measured tread, 
As we march slowly to the grave 
Behind the corse of the loved dead. 
So we will let the outcast tell 
Just as she pleases, in homely w^ords, 
The story of her wrongs and wants. 
The famishing ones do care not 
For silver service — snowy cloth — 
Bread 'tis they cry for, and they clutch 
With eager hands, and eat with greed. 

So Edna sat beside her guest 

And stirred the fire to make more warmth, 



70 



THE STREET SINGER. 



And strove to have her put aside 

The scanty cloak and faded hood. 

" Not now," she trembhng said, " not now- 

But let me tell my story through 

And then Til gather myself up 

And go out in the storm to die." 

Then Edna jDecring in her face 

Sighed "and so young ! that shall not be, 

For of the young there's alvva3S hojoe. 

The young tree blightea oy the storm 

May bloom again perchance and live. 

There's many a sheep that goes astray, 

And greater joy there is in heaven, 

0"er one repentant sinner saved 

Than over ninety-nine just ones 

That tempted never were to stray." 



"To live ! the outcast then replied — 
*'I do not wish to live ! for life 



THE STREET SINGER. 



71 



Is but a loathsome thing to me ; 
My soul this body doth abhor, 
And in its turn, this body hates — 
(If bodies can) — this thinking soul! 
I long to rest my quivering brain 
In death ; deep in the grave 
I might at least in peace be hid 
From the dread scornful gaze of men. 
And thus my body, like a slave, 
Against the spirit doth rebel. 
E'en now the tong^ue begfins to threat 
To stop its utterance ; the lungs 
Refuse to take in air, and must 
Be drugged. 

But bear with me, I pray ; 
I have drank so deep from sorrow's cup, 
And ate so long the bread of shame, 
That pictures of the brighter days 
Come slowly, like the changing clouds, 



72 



THE STREET ShXGER. 



And ere their liappy hues I trace 
They fade and leave me lost in doubt. 

The joys of home were never mine ; 

A mother's love I never knew ; 

And \vhen a child — scarce more than babe- 

I stood beside my father's knee 

And faced the busy frowning throng 

That roughly jostled us aside 

Beneath the stately city's walls, 

Not heeding that my father was 

A cripple, who had left afar 

On Shiloh's bloody ticld his joroof 

Of bravery. 

And so each day 
I'd sing for what they chose to give 
To beggars — we were nothing more. 



One dav while thus I stood, I heard 



THE STREET SINGER. 



n 



My father moan ; and looking up 

I saw him drooping to the ground, 

And soon hiy stretched prone at my feet. 

Who cared for such as we ? he died, 

His poor head pillowed on my lap. 

I was alone. 

When my young brain 
Stood on the track of thought again, 
I took my stand once more, and sang 
Alone with quivering voice ; and scarce 
I'd wailed through one fLimiliar strain 
Before my voice was drowned in tears. 
And as I wept there came along 
Two women, and thev looked at me. 
They seemed like angels sent from heaven, 
As bending down they stroked my hair 
And told me they would take me home. 
And I should all their comforts share ; 
That they would deck my fair young form 



74 



THE STREET SIXGER. 



With silks and laces. 



And I went- 



What wonder that a girl like nie 

Should follow them unquestioning ? — 

(Ah ! how I shudder, looking down 

Into that chasm where I fell !) — 

An innate mentor bade me fly 

From that foul roof of sin and shame ; 

So when the cage- door was ajar 

Trembling I flew, and panting stood 

And watched my sister birds that passed 

In smooth, unsullied feathers, by. 

They seemed to look at me askance. 

And smoothed their shining plumage back, 

As leprous were my very touch. 

And thus their every action said : 

'A rai'a-avis, let her die !' 



AVhat could a poor Pariah do .'' 



THE STREET SINGER. 75 

Starve in the streets, a martyr like ? — 
Prepared are few for martyrdom — 
Go back again of my accord 
And take the vow of infamy ? 
I stood, one foot on virtue's soil, 
And one on that of slippery vice, 
Halting 'twixt two opinions, when 
I saw a man's eyes fixed on me, 
Pity and admiration blent. 

I'd learned to read the face divine ; 

He, too, had learned, for well he knew 

From whence I'd come ; and when he said : 

'Come home with me, forsaken one,' 

I waited for no further words. 

But turned and looked into his face 

To test how much Lavater taught 

A girl of scarcely seventeen. 

I did not know how easy 'twas 



76 THE STREET SLVGER. 

For some to place such dazzling- lights 
Within the windows of the soul 
That none can fix their steady gaze 
Upon the inmate hidden there. 

He looked sincere, and so I went 
With faltering footsteps, and, half dazed, 
Walked on beside him, while he told 
About his wife, how kind and good 
She was ; she'd learn to love me soon — 
Until I felt my heart aglow ; 
Like Bunyan's pilgrim, I could crv : 
Life, life ! for me too — such a worm. 

'Twas so I found her — good and kind ; 
In sunshine and in joy I basked — 
The worm a butterfly had turned, 
Flitting all day from flower to flower ; 
Books, too, I learned, and he — I mean 



THE STREET SINGER. 77 

My new found friend — was good enough 
To unveil their meaning, hidden deep. 
He taught me how the hardened rock 
Had softened into fertile earth ; 
How years and ages had rolled on 
Before the fertile fields appeared ; 
And then he showed how empty were 
The childish creeds and follies taught 
By blinded Christianity. 

The clay w^as in the potters hands, 
And I was molded at his will — 
And next he taught how all things change ; 
Opinions would, and s-hould, be free^ — 
No creeds should bind the immortal soul ! 
At this I paused and stood aghast. 
When lo ! he placed before my gaze 
Green fields and hills, and silvery streams, 
And swelling seas and snow clad mounts, 



78 



THE STREET SINGER. 



And gorgeous palaces, and towers, 
And glittering gems — alluring scenes 
Till, tairly dazzled, I saw naught. 
And then he led me at his will. 
Until God's finger touched him. 
And holding him fast prisoner, said, 
'Thus far, no further shalt thou go, 
Except another's hand shall lead !' 



But I had learned all things were free, 

Tile chains upon the culprit's feet — 

Only hy force are fastened there ; 

And I, not like Andromeda, 

Would not be fastened to the rock ; 

So long I'd quaffed from pleasure's cup 

That like the inebriate, I cried 

For more to drink, else I must die ! 

Upon me still the curse remained. 

Time had but added to its weight, 



THE STREET SINGER. 79 

It rested on my face, my form ; 
And as I in some mirror gazed 
What I'd heard others say, I said — 
' How beautiful ! how beautiful !' 

But ere one year had circled round, 
God's mighty hand fell on me, too ; 
For three long months I felt its weight, 
When lo ! the curse was all removed. 
And they that loved the curse — not me — 
Departed, and left me alone." 

As Edna listened eagerly, 
With bated breath, she scanned again 
The stranger's way worn, haggard face. 
"Mabel !" she cried, while Earnest sat 
With head bent low. Then Mabel rose. 
Threw back her hood and thread-bare shawl, 
Standing erect, displayed to view 
Her wasted form and meager face. 



8o THE STREET SINGER. 

"Edna," she said, "look well at me, 

And tell if human passions lurk 

Among the tombs of skeletons. 

Think you within these bones there burn 

The fires of hate, revenge, or love ? 

We've fought life's battles, you and I, 

But you'd a breastjDlate, helmet, too, 

Aye, you'd God's whole strong armor on, 

And so you came out conqueror ; 

Alas ! for my poor, naked soul. 

Defenseless, target-like, 'twas torn 

By all the fiery darts of hell ! 

One longing only has it now — 

To rest ; how can I rest, I cried. 

With guilt oppressed ; and then I came 

Straightway to you, saying, perchance 

If she forgives, my Father will." 

And all were still till Edna rose. 



THE STREET SINGER. 8 1 

And taking- MabeFs hand, she said : 
" And you would wander out to die 
While he who led your soul astray 
Is safe from harm, nay, even loved !" 

But Mabel bowed her head and wept ; 

"The blessings you would fain bestow 

Would turn to coals upon my head ; 

Is it repentance brought us here ? 

Think you, Edna, he or I 

Had turned to virtue's quiet paths 

Were not God's strong arm stretched out ? 

I tell you nay ; except for that 

We'd kept our course ; for not from choice 

A^e. turned, but stern necessity." 

In silent anguish Earnest sat, 

Nor gave he token that he knew 

Who 'twas that spoke. And Edna bent 
6 



82 



THE STREET SINGER. 



And kissed them both — the kiss of peace. 
"When St. Paul journeyed on," she said 
"To persecute the saints, think you 
Hed ever paused, or turned about, 
Had not God's hand been stretched out ? 
God teaches as he always taught, 
By mercies, and by judgments, too ; 
Events that seem but common place 
What time they happen, and what place, 
Oft change them into miracles, 
And 'tis His hand has led you here." 



THE END. 



I 



